Nine Crimes
by PnkPnguinParade
Summary: They never meant to hurt each other. Addek, Maddison, MerDer. Early Chapters AddisonCentric, now Derekcentric.
1. Chapter 1

So here's my second shot. This one will be considerably longer than the other (9 chapters... for 9 crimes) and I hope you like it. Many thanks to my beta Meagan (incrowder) for editing this chapter. Read, relish, and review!

--Meg

**Summary: **They never meant to hurt each other. (Addek, Maddison, MerDer,)

**Rating: **PG-13 for language, adult situations, and innuendo.

**Disclaimer: **I'm a seventeen-year-old girl from Oklahoma with no money, no job, and no life. I don't have any television awards, I don't have millions of dollars in the bank from creating an awesome TV show, and I definitely don't know Patrick Dempsey. That being said, please don't sue me. The only thing I have worth taking is my DVD collection and my fabulous _Grey's _calendar. The song isn't mine either.

**Spoilers: **If you've seen up to "Six Days - Pt 2' (3.12), you're good. Of course I took a little bit of poetic license... And who can even keep up with the actual timeline? So, I kind of made my own.

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**Chapter One**

"_Leave me out with the waste, this is not what I do"_

* * *

She's tired, she decides and puts her head in her hands. It's been a long day and she still has at least another hour to go. She shuts off the desk lamp and rests her cheek on the stack of papers in front of her. She almost sits up when she realizes there will be a beige stain where her make-up will rub off, but then she decides she's too tired to care, so she doesn't move. The door opens. "Mrs. Reed is here." She sighs, but still can't bring herself to move. She's just too tired. 

After a few minutes, Addison works up enough strength to push herself onto her bare feet and grimaces as she slides her feet into her newest (and by far most uncomfortable) pair of Jimmy Choos. She loops the pink stethoscope around her neck and smiles. She'll act like she's not tired and not sad; she'll be the perky doctor her patients appreciate her for and the kind person her staff expects her to be.

After all, she's nothing if not a good actress.

…

Derek slides into bed beside her and she feels the heat and dampness from his shower on the back of her thighs. Even though he smells real-life clean and not surgical clean, she can still smell surgery on his wet hair and hospital on his skin.

He doesn't say good night or that he loves her, nor does he wrap his arms around her waist or kiss the back of her neck. She guesses it's because he thinks she's asleep.

…

She meets Mark for lunch in Central Park because it's June and it's warm and Addison wants a hot dog from one of the vending carts and a walk around the park with him. So they walk and Addison eats her hot dog and Mark eats both of his and neither one of them talk even after the wrappers are thrown away and Mark has bought her hot chocolate even though it's 86 degrees outside. She doesn't ask and he doesn't explain. They just sit underneath a giant oak tree and watch the people around them as Addison drinks her juju.

…

She has Sunday off so she sleeps until 9:30 and still beats Derek to the coffee pot and the crossword puzzle in the New York Times. He finally drags himself out of bed at 11:45 and they order Chinese and make small talk while they eat. Addison shows him her new shoes and Derek shows her his new fishing pole and they both try to pretend like they care. Then they decide that they'll spend this anniversary at home with each other and probably Mark for a little while, because it's always been the three of them. Addison is relieved because she doesn't think she can be around Derek by herself anymore. His presence suffocates her and as much as she hates it, she can't change how she really feels.

…

On Monday, the stack of paperwork (complete with an Addison's-cheek-shaped beige stain) still sits on her desk. She still doesn't want to do it, but if there's one thing Addison's learned lately it's that what she wants to do doesn't always translate into what she actually does, so she sits behind her walnut desk and starts signing her name.

After an hour she's made a little bit of progress and she decides to have a rubber stamp of her signature made. All that signing and cramping can't be good for her surgical dexterity.

…

"I'm tired," she tells Mark on their second Central Park lunch date.

He nods. "I can tell." The wind whips her hair around wildly and he reaches over to push it behind her ears. "That little light in your eyes is gone."

She smiles sadly and looks down at her wedding rings. She twists the diamond around on her finger nervously and bites her lip. "Derek wants a baby," she says quietly.

"Do _you_?"

She shrugs and crosses her arms. "Sometimes I think having a baby would be a lot less lonely… But I don't want to raise a baby alone, Mark. I'm a surgeon. I _can't_ do it alone." She tries to imagine herself with her baby instead of someone else's.

"So, that's a big no to the baby then, huh?" Mark puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to him.

Addison sighs. "I just..." She pauses. "Right before my high school graduation, I got so jaded. Everything about everyone annoyed me. That's how it is with Derek." Her eyes sting. "We can't stand each other anymore…"

Mark shakes his head. "I'm not exactly the relationship guru or anything… So I'll refrain from giving you any advice." He stops and they watch the wind blow. When he turns back to her, he wipes a tear from her cheek. "You're crying," he says, matter-of-factly.

She bites her lip and wishes she wasn't so stupid. "No…" She smiles at him. "It's just the wind."

…

It's raining big fat drops on Thursday so Mark brings her a sandwich and they have a makeshift picnic underneath her desk. She sighs. "I didn't want to get up this morning," she says. "I had a feeling," she pauses, "and it's raining… So my hair wouldn't do anything." She finger the limp strands. "Things do not bode well."

Mark shrugs. "It's Thursday… June 8."

She nods. "Eleven years today."

"When did that happen?"

She wishes she knew how to answer him.

The door opens but Addison refuses to crawl out from under the desk. "She might be gone to lunch," she hears her receptionist say. "Just leave them on the desk." She only bothers to climb out after she's heard the door close. On the corner of her desk sits a glass vase of eleven red roses. She pulls the card from the plastic stick and opens it. He hasn't even bothered to sign the card himself. She sighs and places the card back in its spot.

"Those are pretty," Mark says from her side. "Are they from Derek?"

She nods. "Yeah." Try as she might, she can't seem to keep the disappointment from creeping into her voice.

"Well," he scrambles for the right words. "That's pretty cool. Eleven roses for eleven years."

She scoffs. "Oh, yeah. Nothing says 'I love you' like a hundred dollar plant that will be dead in a week."

She feels the tiniest bit guilty for saying it.

She feels guiltier when she realizes she doesn't care.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I'm very glad you like it and I can't wait for your reactions to this chapter and the rest of the story. I'll try to be quicker between updates, but with the end of school approaching, I don't know how well that will work... But anyway. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

--Meg )

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**Chapter Two**

"_It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you"_

* * *

There isn't anything she can say, she realizes as she empties her wine glass for the third time. The waiter comes by again and she tells him she'll wait another fifteen minutes. After all, an emergency surgery might have come up. In her head she knows it possible, but in her heart she knows not to believe it.

They've been Addison-and-Derek for eleven years now. She wonders when she stopped being just Addison. She guesses it was when Mark started calling them Addison-and-Derek in medical school. Derek always insisted that it was actually Derek-and-Addison, but she thinks her name should come first. After all, she's here isn't she?

"Hey," he slides into the chair across from her.

She starts. "Mark."

He pours himself a glass of wine. "I had a feeling he might forget."

"You had a feeling?" she smiles, recalling their conversation from earlier. "He could have had an emergency surgery come up," Addison says, hoping that the more she says it, the more she'll believe it.

Mark takes a long drink of wine. "Should we eat?"

She doesn't know if he's chosen to ignore her last comment to protect her or to protect Derek but either way she's grateful because hearing made-up excuses, even if they're her own, don't comfort her any.

…

Mark follows her home and he walks her up to the door of the brownstone. He pulls her close to him and they stand there like that for longer than Addison realizes. She reluctantly pulls herself out of his arms, but can't bring herself to stop touching him, so she puts a hand on his chest in silent thanks and studies her shoes. Mark pulls a box from his coat pocket and presses it into her hand. "Happy anniversary," he whispers in her ear as she opens it.

"Oh…" is all she can gasp as the streetlights cast a blue glow onto the diamond earrings sitting on the black velvet that is cupped in her palm. They're just simple studs, but they're hers and they're diamond and they're from Mark and before she knows it she's kissing his cheek but she can't pull her lips away because somehow they got frozen to his skin.

Mark's cheek tingles where her lips are touching him and as much as he knows he shouldn't, he turns his face ever-so-slightly until his lips brush against hers, and he can feel her uneven breaths in his mouth.

Neither one of them moves and so they stand there and Addison fumbles with the key until finally the door opens and they fall backwards into the brownstone. Addison can feel the doorknob pressing into the small of her back and Mark keeps moving closer to her and in her head she knows it's wrong but, oh God, he's kissing her neck and it feels so right. His lips find hers again, but this time he kisses her for real and it's tongue against tongue and Addison feels awake and alive for the first time in a long time. His hands are in her hair, his mouth on her neck and all se can feel is him around her. Without completely realizing what she's doing, she shrugs out of her blazer and pushes the shoulders of Mark's coat down to his elbows. She steps out of her shoes and the sudden change in height makes them lose contact for a moment, but she grabs his neck and pulls him back down to her hungrily, and his hands are on her hips, thighs, back.

She leads him up the stairs because she isn't thinking anymore. Because it's Thursday, June 8 and eleven years ago she said "I do" but now all she can think is "I don't" and Derek isn't here but Mark is, and oh, how here he is. His jackets lands on the floor at the top of the stairs and he pulls her silk camisole from her shoulders and they stumble back into her bedroom as she yanks his dress shirt from his chest and he follows suit with his undershirt. And they stand there, panting heavily, and Addison can't figure out why because even horny sixteen-year-olds know how to breathe while they kiss. But there's her chest rising and falling in time with Mark's. Logical-Addison tries to kick in but illogical-Addison still has the diamond earrings clutched in her palm. Logical-Addison takes over long enough for her to put them on the dresser but that's all. So she's back to kissing Mark and he follows her onto the bed with the flannel sheets that Derek hates and her skirt is around her ankles and then, suddenly, it's them. And in this moment there's only Mark and Addison and she can see the way they're together. Not like Addison-and-Derek, separated by hyphens and unnecessary spaces, but they're MarkAndAddison -- all together and close and separate from everything but each other. When it's Mark, she doesn't care whose name comes first.

…

When she hears his voice, she shoves Mark off her and for once she's glad that Derek can't seem to remember where the clothes hamper is. She throws a dirty t-shirt over her head and can hear Derek yelling at Mark and them thumping down the stairs and she feels the door slam and it couldn't have taken more than thirty seconds but to her it feels like a lifetime. She trips down the stairs and runs into Derek at the bottom and he grabs her shoulders and just looks at her. All she can see is his eyes --blue and dark and full of pain. Lightning flashes and he pushes past her up the stairs and the only thing she can think to do is follow him and say his name. He stops in the middle of the hall and faces her. His breathing comes in rapid, uneven succession and he searches her face desperately for any sign of remorse, any explanation for what she's done.

She wants to answer him, to sit him down and tell him why she's done it, but everything she thinks of sounds stupid when it reaches her lips so she finally just closes them and shrugs. Derek seems to take it as a clue so he darts into their bedroom and throws her closet door open. She follows him helplessly and says ambiguous things she thinks she should say like "We have to talk about this" and "You can't do this" while she wrings her hands and watches him take her clothes and the sheets he's always hated and tosses them out the front door, and she doesn't even remember coming down the stairs. She does know that she's grateful for them when she throws herself down on them and holds on for dear life. It's infantile and immature and Logical-Addison would have been disappointed, but the Getting-Yelled-at-by-her-Husband-Addison can't think of anything better to do.

…

She isn't quite sure how long she's been lying in the bathroom floor but she knows that she's too tired, too cold, and too emotionally hungover to care. Mark brings her an aspirin and a glass of water and he kneels beside her on the floor, holding her arm and raising her into a sitting position. She swallows the aspirin and searches his face. He nods his head shortly and clears his throat. "Seattle," he whispers, clearing his throat. "Webber."

She nods and wishes she could cry. "I should cry," she says weakly, her throat raw and dry from the countless hours she's spent sobbing and vomiting in Mark's bathroom.

"Nah…" he brushes her cheek with his thumb. "Your tear ducts are way too proud to cry."

"Then I should drink…" she replies, choosing to believe that the pounding in her head is caused by the crying/vomiting and not the half-bottle of scotch she'd downed after Derek left on top of the wine she and Mark had for dinner. "Heavily… I should drink heavily."

"I think you should try to sleep," Mark nods. "I already called in for you. You've got the flu."

He settles her into his bed and kisses her forehead. "I'll be back at lunch to check on you. Try to sleep, Ads…"

She watches him go before she hugs his pillow to her chest and breathes in his scent.

…

Addison believes in retail therapy. She believes that when your life is a huge pile of shit, a new pair of shoes can make everything feel better. So she stares at the display in front of her, ignoring the strange looks she's getting from the staff. Addison takes a pair of red Manolo Blahniks from the shelf and studies them carefully. Cap toe, d'Orsay sides, covered heel, not to mention that they're red. They're red and whorish and so not like her and she knows that seven hundred dollars is a lot for a pair of shoes she'll probably never wear but she buys them anyway along with another pair of professional looking black Jimmy Choo pumps because Addison believes in the power of retail therapy. The saleswoman looks at Addison in Derek's fishing hat strangely but accepts her Visa without hesitation.

If anyone needs proof that Addison believes in the power of retail therapy, they can just look at her credit card bills.

…

She's taken off her wedding rings to save them from the sticky amber goop she's smearing on her head. The smell of the ammonia burns her eyes and she's grateful when the timer goes off and she washes the mess from her hair. After she dries it, she studies herself in the mirror for a long time until she decides that blonde really isn't her color, but it's too late for regrets anyway, so she pulls it into a ponytail and crawls back into bed with Mark.

She's almost asleep when she realizes she forgot to put her rings back on.

* * *

**A/N: ** So here we have an emotionally drained Addison, who I imagine is completely lost right now. Addison as a blonde fascinates me. (The first _Grey's_ fic I ever wrote was 'Lady Lazarus' which featured Addison as a blonde.) We'll see more of Addison's retail therapy later. It's almost like that's how she rebuilds her life... Ah. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, like I said. I hope you all enjoyed. Remember... **ReviewsLove Ü**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Well, I thank everyone who has read and especially those who have reviewed. I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. I have graduation Friday and then a whole summer to do nothing but work and write. YAY Anyway, here's chapter three. I hope you enjoy!

--Meg

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**Chapter Three**

"_It's the wrong time for somebody new"_

* * *

She feels deathly ill on her birthday. It's a Saturday, so she wasn't going to work anyway, but she still thinks it's cruel and sadistic that she has to spend the day bent over the toilet.

Addison rolls onto her back and closes her eyes, waiting for the nausea to pass. She thinks she'll be okay… Until Mark decides to make her pancakes and then her stomach feels better, but she feels worse for vomiting on his bed.

He tells her to sleep on the couch while he changes the sheets.

…

When she wakes up, Addison finds herself back in Mark's bed with a dryer sheet stuck to her face. She pulls it from her cheek and wonders if she's now static free. She feels a little better, so she treks to the kitchen in search of saltine crackers and ginger ale because she's really hungry. There on the counter is a grocery sack with a box of crackers and a two-liter of Sprite, but no note from Mark. She assumes he had an emergency reconstruction come up, he is, after all, the go-to plastic surgeon on the East Coast.

As she tears open a package of crackers, she can't help but wonder if she's kidding herself.

…

Before she met Derek, Addison was basically perfect. She had maintained a 4.0 grade point average and graduated valedictorian from the stuffy private Catholic school her parents had sent her off to. She went to Columbia on academic scholarships and her grandparent's trust fund. She'd never broken a bone, never been grounded, and never had a cavity. Then came Yale medical school, Derek, and Mark and suddenly, Addison wasn't perfect anymore. She still had stellar grades (mainly to be better than Derek and Mark) but on Spring Break of her sophomore year, she broke her left tibia skiing, not to mention the pesky little tattoo on her right hip she had gotten just to prove to Mark that she would. Addison had decided when she was nineteen that perfect was completely overrated.

But now, she almost wishes that she had somehow managed to hang onto a tiny bit of that perfection because she definitely needs it. A perfect person wouldn't have cheated on their husband with his best friend. A perfect person wouldn't have stayed with the best friend after their husband left them. And a perfect person definitely would not be where Addison is right now, pacing back in forth in front of the sink, running her hands nervously through her hair and hoping to God that her first instinct about this "stomach flu" isn't right. Because a perfect person is not stupid enough to sleep with her husband's best friend _and_ stay with him for a month after her husband left _and_ end up pregnant with his child.

Addison takes a deep breath and turns to face the sink and is met with four blue astonishingly clear plus signs that are lined up on the edge of the porcelain basin, one right after the fucking other. She feels her stomach head for her feet and she subconsciously places a hand on her lower abdomen and she hates that her maternal instincts are already kicking in even though it's only been fifteen seconds since she found out she's pregnant.

She sits there quietly for a moment, struck speechless for probably the first time in her life. There's only one word to completely describe the situation she's found herself in. "Shit."

…

Addison waits up for Mark, even though she's already made up her mind to not tell him. She sips her tea quietly and tries to concentrate on the medical journal in front of her, but she keeps pressing her hand to her stomach, imagining the rounded bump it will become over the next few months. But she's made her decision. The only logical thing she can think to do is to not tell Mark. It would be very bad if he found out. But, she admits, Mark finding out wouldn't be as bad as Derek finding out.

Addison debates which one would make her cry.

…

He makes her dinner the next night because she feels much better and he hands her a martini while he finishes the food. She nibbles on the breadsticks, but try as she might, she can't bring the glass to her lips. She takes the olives out and places them on her napkin, waiting for some of the liquor to drain off them before she eats them.

"Hey…" he says, ladling pasta into her bowl. "Are you okay? You haven't touched your martini."

Addison nods and fakes a smile. "I just wasn't really up for a martini tonight…" She picks up her fork and pushed the noodles around.

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't have any wine… And I didn't think of it or I would have stopped by the brownstone and—" He catches her eyes long enough to see her lower them. "You still haven't—"

"No," she cuts him off.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mark reaches for her hand, but she busies herself with the martini. This should be easy, she reasons with herself. The appointment's made… She can imagine the little pill that she'll soon be swallowing…

Addison sighs. "I can't…" she whispers, setting the glass on the table.

Mark stands behind her and rubs her neck. "You're not okay, Addie…"

"No," she whimpers, putting a hand to her head. "I'm not."

He pulls her into his arms. "Tell me what's wrong," he breathes into her hair.

Addison sobs and realizes that she can't not tell him. It wouldn't be fair or right to not give him a chance. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat. "I'm pregnant."

…

He's been gone for three hours and twenty-two minutes, she mentally notes and tries to concentrate on the book in front of her. She stares at the page, the words blurring in her eyes before she realizes she's read the same sentence at least twenty times and that in the three hours and twelve minutes she's been sitting there on her old futon couch that Derek hates with one of Mark's battered books, she hasn't turned the page once. She give up and throws the book on the coffee table, flopping onto her back to stare at the white nothingness of the ceiling.

She assumes she fell asleep because the sound of a key in the lock jolts her awake. Addison sits up and rubs her eyes sleepily as Mark enters his apartment, clutching a paper bag in his left hand. He chuckles when he sees her. "I figured you'd have gone back to the brownstone by now…"

Addison ducks her head. "That isn't how I wanted to tell you…" she says, her voice barely a whisper.

"That isn't really how I wanted to find out…"

They wait in heavy silence until mark clears his throat. "I'm sorry I left."

She nods. "I'm just sorry." They don't talk about why they yelled. They don't talk about why this is oh-so-wrong. Mark says nothing and Addison can't make herself say anything so they just stay there, the traffic from the street below filling their ears, which, she figures, is better than the oppressive silence they experienced earlier.

"A baby…" Mark shakes his head. "Wow…"

She motions to his arm. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh…" He sits next to her. "Umm… I didn't… Well…" He laughs and rubs his chin. "I couldn't think of anything else to get you. Obviously a bottle of Hendrick's wasn't an option." She smiles gratefully. "But, uh… here." Mark hands her the bag and watches her carefully as she opens it.

Addison takes a deep breath and sticks her hand in the bag and is met with softness. She withdraws it and finds a striped Yankees onesie clutched in her hand. She laughs and looks at him.

"No child of mine will ever support the Mets." Mark grins at her. "Oh… There's something else."

She pulls the bag away from a calendar. "What's this for?"

He sighs. "Look, I know it's ridiculous, okay? I just… I want us to mark the due date so we'll know exactly how long until the baby's born." He grabs a pen off the coffee table. "Now, Addie…" he mutter, the pen cap between his teeth. "When is it?" He flips open the calendar and beams at her.

Addison doesn't think she could stand the look on his face if she told him the plan, so she just half-smiles.

"It'll be the April, right?" he asks her.

She almost laughs when she sees the Power Rangers calendar in his lap.

"It was all they had…" he mutters sheepishly at her gaze. "April what? You're like the baby whisperer. As it when it wants to come out." He gently pokes her stomach. "Hello in there! It's Daddy…"

Addison coughs and moves away from him. "The eleventh." She picks at a fabric on a throw pillow. "April eleventh."

…

After Mark finishes numbering the days and hangs the calendar on the wall and the onesie on the dresser, they make love. In the post-coital stillness, Addison rolls onto her side to avoid him, but he doesn't seem to take the hint and he buries his face in her shoulder and trails light kisses on her spine. "I'm sorry about tonight…" His arms wrap around her waist and rest on her abdomen. "I can't wait, Addie… We're going to have a baby…"

Addison lies there long after his breathing deepens, but his hand still lie protectively across her stomach. She lies there staring at that ridiculous onesie and the ludicrous calendar and she hates herself for even telling him because now this is going to be even harder than she thought.

She gently untangles herself from Mark, pulls on his t-shirt and sits on the floor underneath that stupid calendar, chewing on her thumbnail, working up the courage to do what she knows she has to.

…

She's chosen to take the drugs because she can't make herself miss any more work than she has to. While she sits in the exam room waiting for the doctor, she imagines her baby, now about a centimeter long, the size of a grain of rice. She remembers how she deciding on her specialty was easy after she saw a picture of a month old embryo in her college anatomy book. She imagines the tiny webbing that will eventually become fingers and toes, the transparent membrane that will eventually become skin.

She thinks it's incredibly ironic that she, Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd, one of the foremost neonatal surgeons in the country, who spends 50 weeks a year taking care of other people's babies is killing her own.

…

The doctor tells her that it won't take long after she swallows the second pill. Of course, she already knows all of this. She didn't get to be one of the world's best surgeons just on luck. But she smiles and nods in the appropriate places and accepts the clipboard and pen he hands to her. Then he clears his throat and tells her again the termination is not the only option. Again, Addison just smiles politely and tells him that termination is _her_ only option and he nods and she clicks the top of the pen. She signs her name, taking care to leave the 'Shepherd' off the end. Right now, she figures, she doesn't really deserve her husband's surname.

…

Two days later, she swallows the second pill just like she's supposed to and she knows it won't take long, so she pushes her non-emergent surgeries and stays home waiting for what she knows is coming.

She was prepared for the rush of blood, but she wasn't expecting the rush of emotion she felt when she saw the bright red against the white of the toilet. She doesn't cry, it's not like she wasn't asking for this, but the realization that she's just honest-to-God aborted Mark's baby makes her feel… Nauseous. If she'd been able to eat anything over the last couple of days, she's almost sure it would have come back up.

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_...Reviewing is good for the soul..._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Well, the summer's started out pretty nicely. I've been spending about two hours every day working on my stuff, hence the new chapter. This is the last Addison-centric one... The next four will be Derek's point of view. I hope everyone's having a great summer and I really appreciate everyone who reads my stories. Just do me a favor, and if you enjoy, please leave a little review. I don't care if you just say, 'gee you suck. don't ever write anything again.' (okay, well, I might care just a little...) but my point is, I really like hearing from all of you who are reading and (hopefully) enjoying what I've written. end of shameless plug

I do have to give props to Gabrielle G. Stanton, Harry Werksman, and Stacy McKee for the brilliant dialogue that I borrowed (okay, stole) from 1x09 and 2x01. Just know that I only inserted two paragraphs to kind of paste everything together. You'll see.

That being said, please enjoy!

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****Chapter Four**

"_It's a small crime and I've got no excuse."_

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Shell-shocked-and-emotionally-unstable-Addison does what emotionally-unstable-Addison does best – she dyes her hair again. 

She braved her short-lived pregnancy as a blonde and now there's a part of her that desperately needs to have red hair again. She almost feels that changing her hair color is like changing her identity. She wants to pretend that only stupid, blonde Addison would abort Mark's baby and intelligent redheaded Addison still has the perfect marriage. So she buys another cheap box of dye and smears it on her head, not knowing if she's crying because of the chemicals or if it was finally just time for it.

She goes shopping after she finishes her hair. Retail therapy is Addison's drug of choice.

…

She dips her fingers into the basin of water and makes the sign of the cross before she enters the church. She opens the door to the confession box and sits inside, her stomach churning and her hands shaking. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," she mutters, crossing herself again. "It has been…" Addison thinks, "five years since my last confession."

"Tell me your sins, child," the priest she doesn't know says.

Addison takes a deep breath. "Umm… Well, I slept with my husband's best friend… Oh, and this morning I aborted his baby. The friend, not the husband." She fiddles with her rosary.

The priest blesses her and absolves her of her sins and tells her to say so many Hail Mary's and so many Our Father's, but she just nods and wishes that absolution was really that easy.

…

She isn't really sure how she knows where Mark went when he left his apartment last night. All she knows is that the perfume she smelled on his skin while they made love last night wasn't hers and, worse than that, she knows that she recognized it. There's also the simple fact that it doesn't take four hours to buy a onesie and a calendar, and it's so not like Mark to bring her presents unless he wants something or he's trying to make it up to her.

She's sitting silently on his bed, holding the shirt he wore last night in her lap, trying desperately to remember where she's smelled that perfume before when her phone rings and she clears the tears from her throat as she answers it.

Richard explains to her about the TTTS case and she almost tells him to find someone else before she suddenly remembers where the perfume came from. "Charlene…" she whispers indignantly, letting his shirt fall to the floor. She ignores Richard's concerned 'what?' and, for the first time in two months, Addison knows exactly what to do. "When will you need me?"

…

Addison thinks manicures are a total waste of time and she's sure that actually paying someone to paint plastic onto your fingernails is absolutely ridiculous. "Sav… I feel stupid."

"Oh, tosh," Savvy says to her left. "You just needed a day with your best friend before you go out to Seattle."

She rolls her eyes. "Sav, I've told you, this is _work_. I'll just take the divorce papers with me and if he wants to sign them…" She watches the manicurist file her nails.

Savvy reaches over and squeezes Addison's arm. "Addie…" she says gently. "I have a good feeling about this. You guys are meant to be together."

Addison shakes her head. "I don't know, Sav…"

"Hey. You guys are Addison-and-Derek. You're going to get through this."

She nods to agree with Savvy, but all she can think about are Derek's last words to her --- "We're not Derek-and-Addison anymore."

She's almost completely packed by the time Mark figures out where she is. He walks into her bedroom. "Hey. Where have you been? I've been trying to call you all day. Tried to call you so we could have lunch. Tried to call you so we could have dinner. Tried to call you so I'd know where you were."

"Yeah…" she says quietly, placing a pair of pink scrubs into her suitcase. "I went to confession this morning."

He raises an eyebrow. "Why? You don't go to confession."

"I go to confession." She shrugs. "Besides, I felt like I needed to. Then Savvy took me for a manicure." Addison moves past him and into her closet.

Mark grabs her free hand and studies her plastic fingernails. "You're a _surgeon_, Addison."

"They'll pop off in a week or so." She zips her garment bag.

"What are you doing?"

Addison shakes her head, folds a pair of pants, and lays them on top of her scrubs. "I'm packing." She busies herself with her shoes.

"I can see that. Where are you going?"

She tucks her hair behind her ears. "It's none of your business."

Mark catches her arm and pulls her around to face him. "Like hell it's not. Are you going to Seattle? To him?"

She nods. "Yeah. He's my husband."

"And what happens in April when the baby's born? How are you going to explain that, Addison?"

She breaks free of his grasp and rushes into her closet, pulling whatever's left off the hangers.

"What then?" He matches her stride for stride and blocks the closet door, trapping her inside. "What about the baby? What about _our_ baby?"

"There _is_ no baby," she says vehemently, pushing pass him.

"What are you saying?"

She throws the clothes on her bed and flings open another suitcase. "I'm not having the baby."

"What did you—" He stops. "Oh." Mark stares at her. "You had… _Why_?" he asks her breathlessly.

Addison stops folding the clothes and faces him. He looks so heartbroken and sad that she almost feels bad. "Where were you last night, Mark?"

"You know where I was," he argues. "You were right there beside me all night!"

"Where did you go when you left for God knows how long? I waited three and a half hours for you before I feel asleep on _my _futon couch. Where the hell were you?"

"Don't try to make this about me," he counters. "_You_ aborted _my_ baby." His eyes flash dangerously.

"I could smell her." Her voice is little more than a whisper and she absolutely hates how hurt he makes her sound. How weak and vulnerable she is around him. "She was all over you, did you know that?" She blinks back the tears and continues folding her clothes into the suitcase.

"Bullshit, Addison." He shakes his head. "You're looking for an easy way out of this and I'm not going to give it to you!"

She shakes her head exasperatedly. "I don't… Ugh!" She throws up her hands. "We're not having this conversation."

"No." He sits down on her bed. "You started it. Tell me my sins, O Most Holy One, who goes to mass on Christmas, Easter and when she aborts her lover's baby!"

Addison slams the suitcase closed, but doesn't say anything to him.

"You want to pass on some blame? Fine. You really want to do it this way? Then let's do it." He crosses his arms over his chest. "What do you want me to tell you?"

She bites her lip and takes a deep breath. "Tell me who it was, Mark. Tell me who makes you so—"

"Shit, Addison! It's you! It's always been you! I've _always_ loved you!" He springs up and stands in front of her. "If you can't see that, if you really can't tell how I feel about you, then…" He shrugs. "I don't know what else to say to you."

"Why did—"

"No!" He cuts her off. "It's my turn now. Why did you abort our baby?"

"Who did you fuck last night?" She says before she can stop herself.

"This isn't about that, Addison!"

"It is!" She exclaims, stepping toward him. "It _is_ about that, Mark. You can't keep it in your pants for four hours right after I told you I was pregnant. How were we supposed to raise a child? You're a man-whore, Mark. You always have been and you always will be. You knew I was married. You were at the wedding. Hell… You were Derek's best-fucking-man… I was hurting and going through a bad time in my marriage and you took advantage. You brought me lunch and bought me diamonds… And I chose to love you because loving you was almost like loving Derek. I made a mistake. That baby was a mistake. But you… You were the biggest mistake, Mark."

He stands in silence for a moment, letting her words sink to the very core of him. He clears his throat. "Well… I guess you should know that it was—"

"I know who it was, Mark," she mutters, exhausted. "I work with Charlene every day. She's stood beside me in the OR more times that I know. I'd know that cheap perfume anywhere."

"Why'd you ask?" he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.

Addison shrugs. "I wanted to see if you'd admit what you did."

Mark rubs his chin. "So what now? What do we… I mean, what happens now?"

"I don't know." She shakes her head. "I think I go to Seattle and you stay here and… Maybe I'll be back."

"So what, I'm just supposed to wait here for you?"

"I'm still married, Mark." She takes a step toward him. "I'm not going to… I'm not going to stay if he won't love me anymore. But, if Derek—"

"He'll take you back," Mark sniffs. "Derek will take you back because that's the kind of guy he is. And you'll try to make things work. And maybe they will." He puts a hand on her cheek. "But if they don't…"

She closes her eyes and puts her hand on top of his. "Mark, please… Don't make this any harder for me than it already is."

"You know where to find me." He kisses the top of her head and heads out the door. He stops in the doorframe and turns toward her. "It was fun."

She puts her hands on her hips. "I'm still really pissed at you."

He laughs a little. "Yeah, well… You get to be. Love you, babe."

Addison watches him walk slowly down the stairs and out the front door of her brownstone before she sighs. "Yeah, I kind of love you, too."

…

As soon as she's made sure everything's packed, Addison calls Derek. She doesn't expect him to answer, so she's not a bit surprised when she gets his voicemail. "Derek," she starts, not quite how to continue. "It's me. It's Addison. Listen, I know you're still mad at me and I know that I deserve it, it's just… Just call me back when you get this, alright? We have a lot to talk about and I…" She takes a deep breath. "I miss you, Derek. Okay. Well, I guess I'll talk to you later. Bye." She can't say what she really wants to and it's that, more than anything that makes her cry.

…

Savvy goes with her to the airport the next morning and Addison pulls her into a tight embrace.

"You'll keep an eye on the brownstone for me?" Addison asks her.

"Of course," Savvy assures her.

Addison sighs. "And Mark…"

"I'll keep an eye on him, too, although I can't say I can control him as much as I can the brownstone."

"Thanks, Sav." Addison laughs and hugs her friend again. "I guess I'd better go."

Savvy nods. "Yeah."

"I'll see you?" Addison swallows her tears.

"Sooner rather than later?" She rests her chin on Addison's shoulder. "Go bring him home, Addie."

"I'm going to try, Sav…" Addison whispers. "I'm really going to try."

…

She isn't sure what she's going to say to him when she sees him. All she knows as she pulls into the parking lot of Seattle Grace Hospital is that she definitely hates the weather. She takes the black umbrella she bought from the airport and tucks it under her arm because even though it's not raining at this particular moment, the skies are heavy and she guesses that it will downpour before she gets back to her hotel room.

Addison checks her reflection once more in the rearview mirror and retouches her lipstick before she opens the car door and steps onto the wet pavement. She looks fabulous. Even Jetlagged-Addison is smart enough to know that she has to look drop dead gorgeous and just a tad dangerous, especially if her gut instinct is right.

She walks through the automatic doors and intends on asking the nurse at the desk where Richard Webber is but she stops short when she hears Derek say, "Me, too" to her right. She watches him help a tiny blonde girl into her coat and her suspicions are confirmed. Addison raises an eyebrow and stares at him and eventually, his eyes meet hers and the smile drops from his face. She forces her white knuckle grip on her umbrella to loosen and she struts over to him, silently ecstatic that she chose to wear her highest black heels. She towers over the girl. Derek touches the girl's arm and calls her Meredith and all Addison can think is that there aren't enough 'sorrys' in the world to fix them both right now. But at the same time, she feels incredibly less guilty.

Addison puts a hand on her hip and smirks at him.

"Addison," he breathes. "What are you doing here?"

Meredith looks from one to the other, her utter confusion written on her face.

"Well, you'd know if you'd bothered to return any _one_ of my phone calls." Addison finds the umbrella incredibly handy when it comes to gesturing. Plus, she figures, it probably makes her look even more intimidating than she already is. Derek grin drips with sarcasm and it's the look on his face that makes her extend her hand to Meredith with an upbeat "Hi." She smiles. "I'm Addison Shepherd."

Meredith looks at her, still obviously very confused. "Shepherd?" she repeats, almost as if she isn't sure she heard correctly.

She could be nice. She could explain what had happened. She could try to be friends with Meredith and she could try to be civil. But Addison decides she's had just about enough of all that. She takes a deep breath. "And you must be the woman who's been screwing my husband."

"Meredith," Derek starts, turning from Addison.

"No, I'm just…" Meredith backs slowly away from her. "I'm just going to go. You two… You two obviously have a lot to talk about and I… Yeah." She puts her head down and walks into the parking lot just as the thunder starts and Addison's downpour begins.

Derek runs a hand through his hair and walks in circles. He stops right in front of her and stares. "Addison, what are you doing here?" he spits.

She studies him. "Your hair's different."

"A lot of things are different."

"It's longer, I like it." She smoothes a stray piece by his ear. "It's very Russell Crowe."

He jerks his head away. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" She returns, dropping the act. "You pick up and leave everything? Your house, your practice, your friends. You had a _life_ in Manhattan."

"_Had._" He stresses.

She swallows hard. "And now you have a girlfriend in Seattle. She seems…" Addison searches for the right word. "sweet."

His eyes narrow. "The ice you're on? Thin." Derek moves past her.

"She's young. That whole wide-eyed, ooh-he's-a-brain-surgeon thing happening, but still," She faces him. "sweet, which is what you were going for, right? The Anti-Addison?" She wonders how many personas she's identified within herself over the last two months.

"If you came out here to try to win me back, you can forget about it."

Always with the selfishness, she thinks, and even though that was right on the top of the list, right after her abortion and the fact that Mark Sloan would always be a man-whore, she decides she absolutely cannot let him know about it. "I did," she admits breezily. "I flew all the way across the country to reminisce over wedding photos, get drunk, fall into bed, and make you realize you can't live without me." Her tone is laced with sarcasm and she can see the anger in Derek's eyes. "Relax. Derek, I'm here for _work_. I'm helming the TTTS case you guys admitted last week, and from Richard's briefing, I should be—"

"Richard knew you were coming out here?" Derek cuts her off.

"He asked me to come," Addison replied calmly. "Didn't he tell you?"

"No, he didn't!" Derek exclaims.

"Hmm, well…" She sighs. "Surprise." She walks past him, but leans back suddenly. "The hair though… You know I've always had a thing for Russell Crowe." Addison grins wickedly and decides that a sane person wouldn't enjoy hurting their husband this much.

* * *

_...reviewing is good for the soul..._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Here's the Derek part I thought we'd _never_ get to. Thanks to everyone who reads and I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"_Leave me out with the waste, this is not what I do"_

* * *

He's half-drunk and Weiss is pouring him another scotch when his phone rings. He expects it to be Addison, he almost wants it to be Addison, but the number on the screen is unfamiliar and he answers it, taking care to make his 'Shepherd' not sound so slurred. He and Richard Webber make small talk for a bit until Addison's name is mentioned and Derek coughs and takes another sip of scotch before he tells Richard that she's fine. Then Webber clears his throat and tells Derek there's a neurosurgery position open and he's always welcome in Seattle. Derek hesitates for a minute and Richard seems to interpret his silence as concern for Addison, so he hastily adds that of course she would be welcome as well.

Derek cuts him off. "I can be there in a week."

…

He thinks he's probably stupid to have driven across the country, but he needs a release. He needs to stop in all the little diners that always have the best food. He needs to eat things that are fried without Addison nagging him about his cholesterol levels and he needs to drink beer without her wrinkling up her nose and telling him that there are much better things to drink that don't taste like piss. He checks his phone and, four days later, she still hasn't called. In a way, he almost feels sorry for her. She's probably waiting for him to call her and doesn't want to seem desperate by calling him.

Derek sighs. No, wait… That's him.

He wants to hate her, really he does, but at the same time, he can't blame her. Sure, he admits, there are better ways to go about getting someone's attention, but he just can't make himself blame her. The hospital had become his dirty mistress long ago. He can't remember the last time he'd gone home wanting nothing more than to make love to her and feel her body pressed against his as they slept.

He takes a swig of beer. He kind of sees how all of this could have been his fault.

…

He waits an hour before he writes a check for forty acres of the most beautiful land in Seattle, as the real estate agent assured him. He's not sure why he needs forty acres of land (what the hell is a surgeon with one day off a week going to do with forty acres of land, even if it is the some of the most beautiful in Seattle?), but Derek's always liked nature, and the Hamptons, which happen to be Addie's warped idea of the great outdoors, never appealed to him. So he buys a silver Airstream and some lumber and, eight hours later, he has the perfect little mountain get-away. He snorts into his beer. Addison would hate this, he thinks, turning around in the middle of his forty acres to survey his work. He sighs. It just makes him love it even more.

…

He's completely aware of the heads that turn as he walks down the corridor toward Richard's office and, damn, he missed this. Having Mark Sloan as your best friend and Addison Forbes Montgomery as your wife tends to make a man like Derek feel... a tiny bit unattractive.

He pulls his cell phone from his pockets and checks it one more time. He wonders what she's doing, if she's feeling as horrible as he is. Then he thinks how very absurd it is that he feels like a prick when he wasn't even the one who cheated. But Derek's always had a soft spot for Addison.

Derek shakes Richard's hand and signs his two year contract without hesitation. He's given and given until he can't give anymore. Seattle is his life now. If Addison wants a part of it, she can meet him in the middle.

Derek stands up and walks proudly out of the hospital, deciding he's not going to check his phone anymore. If she calls, he won't answer, and this makes him feel very good about himself. He has to forget about her, and, he nods as he sees the little bar directly across the street from the hospital, alcohol can't hurt.

…

He doesn't know what exactly has made him appreciate the Emerald City Bar as much as he does, but he is sure of the fact that he is going to drink and drink heavily and pray that he won't end up with a major surgery first thing in the morning on his first day at Seattle Grace.

So here he sits in the red shirt that Addison hates and he's going to drink until it feels better. Drink until it comes out of his pores. Drink until loving his adulterous bitch of a wife doesn't hurt quite so much. Then he sees _her_.

Derek studies the blonde in black that's just sat down at the bar and he likes her because she looks as lost as he feels. He drains his glass and he isn't quite sure what makes him go to the bar to ask for another double scotch, single malt, or sit down beside her and ask her whether or not this is a good place to hang out and he definitely doesn't know why it bothers him that she ignores him.

He does know exactly what he's doing though, and, twenty minutes later, when his lips press against the blonde's, he's aware of the silent 'fuck you' he wishes he could telepath to Addison.

…

The floor is not the most comfortable place to sleep naked, Derek decides as he rubs his neck, working out a knot. In the tiny shower of his trailer, he almost misses Addison. He keeps expecting her to bang on the door and tell him to hurry, which of course, he wouldn't because if she gets really frustrated, she'll climb into the shower with him and wash her hair right in front of him, knowing that the suds that trickle down her body will draw his attention away from trying to make her mad. They don't always make love, and on a day like today, her arms would snake across his back and her fingers would move deftly to work the knot out of his neck. He likes her hands. They are strong, limber… The hands of a good surgeon.

He's been trying for two weeks to forget the way she touches him. He's moved across the country to forget she even exists, but the pesky gold band on the edge of the sink constantly reminds him that no matter what he tells himself, he is still very much in love with her.

Then there's Meredith. The girl he'd met in the bar is very much like him. He sensed that she needed him as much as he needed her. And, yes, it had all been very lovely and terrific and, who was he kidding? The sex had been phenomenal, but there's a part of him that knows he had used Meredith to even the score between him and Addison. Meredith may not have been Addison's best friend, and he may not have fucked Meredith on Addison's favorite sheets, but psychologically, Derek reasons with himself, he and Addison are even now. Part of him feels bad, but another part, a bigger part can't help but think she had it coming.


End file.
